


It Is On!

by Xanoka



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Is Ripped, Akuma Possession, Arm Wrestling, F/M, Humour, Identity Reveal, Marinette And Adrien Get Physical, Marinette Is Hella Strong, Punning, Reveal Fic, Ridiculous Wrestling Names, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6451405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanoka/pseuds/Xanoka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which The Pink Punisher goes up against The Beautiful Bruiser. AKA Marinette and Adrien arm wrestle, and a certain cat gets out of the metaphorical bag. Silly Reveal fic!  Ridiculous Wrestling Names! Some mild swearing and innuendo!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Marinette Is Hella Strong And Adrien Is Ripped

 

You wouldn’t think she was an aggressive or even competitive person.  That’s what Adrien had thought.

Sweet Marinette, with her bunches, pink capris and tendency to blush.

So he was surprised, to say the least, when she volunteered for Kim’s Arm Wrestling Challenge. 

Though he seemed to be the only one.  Kim, for his part, immediately paled.

“N-no.  That’s OK.”

But Alya had already blocked his escape, a wicked smirk on her lips.

“Uh-uh.  You issued the challenge.  You’ve got to see it through.”

Amid cheering and cries of “Kick his ass, Marinette!”, Adrien turned to Nino in confusion.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh!”  Understanding dawned.  “Right.  You don’t know.”  He chuckled and shook his head fondly, to Adrien’s annoyance.

“Yes, and I _still_ don’t know, and I won’t until you tell me.  What’s going on?”

Nino just grinned.  “Just watch.  You’ll see.”

Adrien glanced over his shoulder.  Marinette and Kim were seated now, facing each other.

Alya was standing behind Marinette, rubbing her shoulders and whispering in her ear, like a trainer at a wrestling match.  It certainly looked like she was gearing up for a fight.  Her eyes were narrowed, fixed almost predatorily on her opponent, lips parted in anticipation.

_Cute_.

The thought popped into his head, and Adrien immediately chided himself for it.

Not that it stopped him from following Nino as they joined the rest of the class crowded around the picnic table.  Even Chloe and Sabrina were watching, albeit at a distance, while pretending to play on their phones.

Kim, on the other hand, looked nervous.  Alix and Max were standing behind his seat too, though in their case, they looked more like guards, posted to impede his escape.  He tried anyway.

“Come on, guys.  I was joking.  Just let me – ”

“No way,” Alix said, letting a hand fall heavily on his shoulder.  “You said if anyone could beat you at an arm wrestling match you’d kiss Mme Bustier.  And now you have a challenger.”

“But, _guys_ ,” he whined.  “Marinette – ”

“I’m afraid you should have thought of that before,” Max interjected.  “Now, would anyone care to bet?  I calculate the odds are two to one in Marinette’s favour.  Who’d like to bet against me?”

Kim scowled, and scowled harder when no one volunteered.

Alya grinned and rubbed her hands together.  “Suck it up, man.  It is on!”

Marinette answered her smirk with one of her own, planting her elbow firmly on the table and holding out her hand expectantly.  Her expression was determined, confident and strangely familiar…

As Adrien wracked his brains, the crowd drew a collective breath in anticipation.  It really _was_ like being at a wrestling match.  Or, at least, so Adrien imagined.

Under the peer-pressuring gaze of his whole class, Kim reluctantly placed his elbow on the table and took Marinette’s fist.

It was over astonishingly quickly.

Adrien had expected some struggle, some back and forth, and despite the reactions of the rest of the class, he hadn’t expected Marinette to actually _win_.  She was so small, after all.  So slender and delicate looking compared to her much larger classmate.

But Marinette, it seemed, had arms of steel.

Without appearing to exert any effort – if anything, her smile actually _widened_ – beyond a tightening of her grip, she flexed a bicep and pounded Kim’s whole arm into the table.

The entire class erupted into cheers, while Chloe and Sabrina tittered, Kim slumped and Adrien gaped.

Nino, laughing, nudged Adrien’s shoulder. 

“See?  What did I tell you?  Marinette’s hella strong.”

“You didn’t tell me anything.”

But Nino wasn’t listening, having abandoned Adrien to fist bump the victor, while Alya held her other fist in the air like a champion, to general, loud approval.

“God, that was funny!”  Alix shouted over the noise.  “Awesome, Marinette!  Totally awesome.”

Marinette grinned back, flushed with success.

“Thanks!  But are there any other challengers?”  She said it jokingly, but a hush descended over the group anyway.

“What!” Alya exclaimed, pantomiming surveying the crowd.  “Is there no one?  No one daring enough to take on our reigning champion, Mlle Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

After a beat, Nino raised his hand, to everyone’s surprise.

“Oh, no.  Not me,” he said hastily as Marinette’s gimlet eye fell on him.  “But…” his smile widened craftily.  “I bet my man Adrien, here, can beat you,” he continued, clapping a hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

Adrien stared at him.  “What?  Me?”

Nino nodded confidently.  “Hell, yeah, dude!  I’ve seen you in the locker room.  I’ve seen you in gym.  You are _ripped_.”

Adrien waited for someone to laugh.  Surely, any second now, someone would shout “April Fools!” (though it wasn’t April).  Because he was sure, _certain_ ¸ that as far as everyone else was concerned, he was just a model, just a pretty face.

But the boys in the class only looked thoughtful, while the girls looked intrigued.

All except Marinette, who seemed horror struck.

“What?  No!  I can’t fight _Adrien_ ,”

She could have been talking about kicking a kitten, and Adrien might have been offended if he hadn’t agreed.  He couldn’t fight _Marinette_.  Sure, she seemed to be strong.  But he was a _superhero_

“I don’t know,” Alya said slowly, looking as if Christmas had come early.  “You _did_ issue a challenge.  And we didn’t let Kim off the hook.  So…”

And that was how Adrien found himself pressed into Kim’s vacated seat as Marinette was pushed back down into hers.

“But I was joking!” she cried desperately.

No one appeared to be listening.

Instead, money changed hands rapidly as an impromptu betting ring emerged.

“They’re betting on us?” Adrien muttered, shocked and a little embarrassed. 

He hadn’t addressed the comment to anyone in particular, but Nino answered anyway, flopping onto the bench next to him.

“Yup!  Don’t worry, dude.  You’ve got good odds.  Marinette’s kind of edging you out – she’s a known quantity and all – but five to one isn’t bad.  You’ve got to have those abs for something, right?  Anyway, I’ve got twenty euros riding on this.  Don’t let me down.” 

He clapped his shoulder again bracingly and moved to join the rest of the spectators.

Marinette, meanwhile, was having a hissed argument with Alya, who was shaking her head patiently and whispering back.  Adrien caught the words “Adrien”, “chance” and “favour”.

“All right!”  Max shouted, clapping his hands together.  “Betting’s over.  There are exactly eight minutes until break is over, so I suggest we commence.  Over to our commentator.”

He turned to Alix, like a newsreader, who didn’t hesitate to step up to the table, clearing her throat loudly.

“Thanks, Max.”  She clapped her hands together, then flung her arm out in the most dramatic act of pointing Adrien had ever seen. 

“On my left is our reigning champion: the Pink Punisher!  The Furious Fashionista!  The Pint-sized Princess of Pain!  Marinette!  Dupain!  Cheeeeng!”

A cheer went up from all the assembled girls.

“And on my right is her challenger – ”

“I never – !”

“The Model of Mayhem!  The Beautiful Bruiser!  The Washboard Wrecking-ball!  Newcomer:  Adrien!  Aaaagreste!”

An even bigger cheer went up from the guys in the class.

“Yeah!”

“Come on, Adrien!”

“Do it for Kim!  Avenge his honour!”

“Hey!”

He should refuse, really.  He should just walk away.  He is a gentleman, gentlemen do not arm wrestle ladies.  Or arm wrestle at all.  His father would have a fit.  Not to mention, his superhero double life gave even his civilian self an unfair advantage.

And yet.

Everyone was cheering.  For him.  And it had nothing to do with his face.

Adrien planted his elbow on the table, flushing and trying to ignore the warming in his chest as the whole class cheered.

Marinette sighed and did the same, taking his hand in hers with a blush.  Adrien swallowed and focused on keeping his face impassive, despite the tingling of his skin.

“I’m sorry about this, Adrien.”  She was looking at him almost pityingly, fully expecting him to lose.

There was something familiar about that expression.  And, for whatever reason, it put him on his mettle.  He felt her start with surprise as a Chat Noir grin slipped onto his face.

“You haven’t won yet.  It is on!”

He vaguely registered Nino crowing and Alya laughing at Marinette’s shocked expression as Alix shouted “Begin!”

And suddenly his fist was being squeezed in a vice-like grip and his muscles were straining to keep his arm at a right angle.

Because, good _Lord_ , was she strong.

Despite her earlier display, he thought he’d be able to defeat her easily.  But her arm wasn’t budging, though he had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen in surprise, then screw up in concentration as his didn’t either.  Was that the tip of her tongue poking out?

_Cute_.

But no, he reminded himself.  Now was not the time.  He had an arm wrestling match to win.

Unfortunately, it seemed to be a case of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.  He just wasn’t sure which was which.

As the seconds stretched into minutes with neither of them gaining any ground, their audience went wild.  Alix was commentating rapidly, shouting excitedly and waving her hands.  Through his haze of concentration, Adrien caught the odd “Unbelievable!”, and “Amazing!” as his world narrowed to Marinette’s fist.

He wanted to win.  He _really_ wanted to win.  People were impressed with him.  Adrien.  They were _cheering_ for him.

_Chat could do this.  I can do this._

“You’ll tire eventually,” he ground out.

Marinette snorted, her fingers crushing his punishingly.  Really, it was quite refreshing, if painful, to see her engaging with him so directly. 

“In your dreams,” she hissed back.

Now, why did that sound familiar?

The Chat grin he’d manged to maintain the whole time widened.  Lowering his voice so only she could hear, he whispered back.

 “No, _Princess._   In _yours_.”

That did it.  He saw her face go slack with shock and took advantage of her distraction to slam her fist into the table.

“Yes!”  He stood up, punching the air victoriously.

Nino was pounding him on the back and his classmates were rushing to congratulate him, screaming and jumping up and down jubilantly, as if he had just won an Olympic event.  Everyone ignored Alya’s indignant cries of “Cheating!”

Adrien grinned.  Until his eye slid back to Marinette.  She hadn’t moved from her seat, but her face was darkening, like a thundercloud, as her eyes burned into his.

Suddenly, his mouth was dry.

Shit. 

He had just outed himself as Chat Noir to a classmate.  Just to win an arm wrestling match.

Shit.

He was in so much trouble.


	2. In Which Marinette And Adrien Get Physical and Kim Gets Schooled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, goodness, thank you all SO MUCH for reading, leaving kudos and for your comments! The response to this story has been amazing, thank you so much!!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy Part Two. Still debating whether or not there needs to be a Part Three. Please let me know what you think! :)
> 
> In the meantime, I've had a blast writing this. It's been a nice break from all the angst of my last ML story. And your feedback has made the experience even better. So thanks again!

 

Marinette couldn’t believe it.  She actually couldn’t believe it.

Adrien.  Chat.  Chadrien!

But that stupid smirk.  That stupid word.  And that damning guilt on his stupid face.

_And_ , her Outrage shouted over her embarrassment, he had _tricked_ her.  He had _cheated_.  Her eyes narrowed and she finally found her feet.

“Ch – Adrien!  I can’t believe you!  You tricked me!”

Over the noise their friends were making, she would have been surprised if anyone heard her.

But Adrien did, apparently, stiffening, eyes riveted to her as she advanced. 

_Cat senses_ , her Outrage whispered, and Marinette’s Cup of Wrath boiled over.

Only Adrien’s Chat honed reflexes saved him as she lunged.  As it was, he barely managed to dance to one side, slipping past Ivan to avoid her grasping hands.

“I’m sorry!” he yelped, diving to the right as she practically shoved Ivan out of the way.

“Don’t you “I’m sorry” me, you stupid – I’ll _skin_ you!” 

Her fingers grazed his shirt.

“Please don’t.  Remember, my face is insured!” 

It was a low blow, playing the model card, but it worked.  She hesitated, giving him the chance to wriggle away and take off running.

“And they’re off!”  Alix shouted over the cheering.  Was she _still_ commentating? 

“In my defence,” Adrien added, as he dodged behind a bin.  “You’re _really_ strong.”

Marinette’s face screwed up in frustration.  “That’s no excuse to cheat!”

“Cheating is a strong word, Princess!”  He called over his shoulder as he pelted round the corner of the school building and up the steps inside.

Perhaps he could lose her in the corridors and classrooms?

But no, he could hear her footsteps, pounding on the tile behind him.

“You _distracted_ me!”

“That’s not a crime!”

“You no good – _Adrien_!”

He dived through an empty classroom door, and realised immediately it was a mistake as she appeared in the doorway behind him, blocking his only escape route.

Really should have stuck with the corridors.  Maybe he could try the window?

Before he could formulate the most rudimentary Get-Away plan, Marinette was advancing on him, backing him up against the white board.

“Look, I’m sorry!” he said again, holding up his hands appeasingly.  “I just wanted to win at something!”

She glared at him, completely unmollified.

“What on earth are you talking about?  You’re Adrien Agreste!  You win at everything!  You win at – you win at _life_!  You’re rich, smart, famous, _stupidly_ good-looking – ”

“Wait!”  The damned smirk was back.  “You think I’m stupidly good-looking?”

That grin.  All she could see was Chat.

“Sh-shut up!”

“But that’s what you said!” he sing-songed.  “That’s definitely what you said!” 

He smiled broadly, stroking his chin and leaning into her personal space.

She jerked her head back, disorientated.  It was Chat.  That expression was all Chat, head tilted, eyebrows raised cheekily, eyes heavy-lidded. 

But his clothes were Adrien, his neat hair was Adrien, he even _smelled_ of Adrien.

(Not that she had ever smelled his clothes, of course.  Ever.)

To push past her burgeoning embarrassment, she made her move.  He wasn’t expecting it and yelled with shock as her arm circled his neck, bending him over in a headlock.

“Ow!  I’m sorry, Princess!  Ow!”

She snorted.  “You’re such a wimp, Chat.”

“No,” he gasped.  “I’m a gentleman.  Too much of a gentleman to fight back.  You’re a civilian!  A _crazy_ strong civilian.  Seriously – Marinette.  Do you lift weights in your spare time?”

She sniffed.  “I sew.”

He muttered something under his breath that might have been “Figures”. 

She shrugged it off.

It was dawning on her that now she had him at her (relative) mercy, she had no idea what to do with him.  Sure, it had been satisfying to grab Chat (she refused to think of him as Adrien), but what was she going to do with him now?

Before she could decide, a distant scream reached their ears.  They both froze, heads turning towards the sound (or tried to).

“An akuma!”  They cried in unison, as Marinette finally released Adrien’s head.

Together, they moved over to the windows, peering into the courtyard below.

Students were taking cover as a woman stalked into view, dragging someone behind her by his bound fists.

“Is that… Kim?”

It definitely was.  Even without his Chat enhanced vision, Adrien could see Kim was terrified, struggling against his bonds as the akuma stopped, tugging sharply and bringing him to his knees.

His captor laughed coldly, towering over him in platform stilettos, as she began her mandatory villainous monologue.

“I am The Punisher!” she announced, cracking her whip against her own thigh before flicking it in Kim’s direction.  “You almost cost me my job!  You have been a very Naughty Boy!  And Naughty Children must be Punished!”

The akuma glanced up, and they both ducked down out of sight.

“Well.”  Adrien raised an eyebrow in a very Chat-like manner.  “This is getting a bit kinky for a school.”

Marinette hushed him, frowning distractedly. 

“It must be Mme Bustier.  Oh no!  The bet…  Kim must have kissed her already.”

“He moves fast!”

“I didn’t think about the trouble she could get into with the school!  I should have never agreed to the match!” 

Adrien snorted.  “What about Kim?  Looks to me like that bet’s _spelling_ disaster for him down there.  He must be _taught_ as a bowstring.  Think she’ll put him in de-tension?  He is getting _schooled_!”

Marinette glowered at him out of the corner of her eye.  It was getting harder and harder to remember he was still _Adrien_ , even while looking at him.  “You just can’t stop, can you?  With or without the mask.”

“You inspire me, Princess.”  He grinned unrepentantly, nudging her before they both turned back to the window to peek out again.  “Where do you think the akuma is?”

“I don’t know.  It must be something she carries with her all the time.”

“So we can _rule_ out the whip?”

“Maybe her necklace?” she suggested distractedly, considering their unfortunate teacher.

“Got it.”  Adrien stood and stretched languidly.  For some reason, with Marinette watching, he felt the need to flex just a _little_ more than usual.  And it was nice, not having to sneak off to transform, for once.  “Well, I’d better _whip out_ my suit and _punnish_ that akuma then!  Got to save the civilians before they get a serious case of post- _grammatic_ stress disorder!”

He winked.  He actually winked.

“Wait!”

Adrien paused to look at her as she grabbed his arm.

Even an hour ago, Marinette would have laughed at the idea of revealing her Secret Identity to Chat, even if she’d known his.  How could she, Marinette, possibly live up to the Legend that was Ladybug, after all?

But an hour ago, Adrien hadn’t cheated her out of an arm wrestling victory.  An hour ago, she hadn’t just held Chat in a headlock.  An hour ago, her shyness hadn’t been outweighed by her irritation.

Most importantly, an hour ago, she hadn’t known the devious, insufferable, _punning_ depths to which her crush could sink.  And, really, compared to that, _her_ Secret Civilian Identity was nothing to be ashamed of.

_To hell with it._

“Tikki!  Spots on!”


End file.
